


That Which Will Never Return

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon - Fills plot hole(s), Characters - Family Dynamics, Drama, Fourth Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2005-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:22:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3784727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Elrond gone and Imladris under their care, Elladan and Elrohir struggle with the terrible burden of making their final choice.  Should they sail West or remain in Middle-earth?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

**Part One**

Something was different in the valley. The wind and trees whispered it to each other. The river called it to the stag standing at its bank. The stars sang it to those able to listen, and two elves stood quietly, watching the darkness thicken in the east. But there was nothing evil about this darkness; it was merely a herald of the coming night.

For Elves who do not notice the normal passage of time, it seemed hardly the blink of an eye since the Ring was destroyed and light returned to the world. In reality, it had been long years that were spent rebuilding Minas Tirith and driving the remaining orcs and goblins from the countryside. The two had gladly stayed in the White City and helped the man they loved as a brother rebuild his war torn country and restore the great city to its former glory. While a couple of years could not repair decades of war, the people of Gondor were remarkably strong in spirit, and the prosperity of peace was filtering through the cities and villages. Yes, Gondor was strong again, and Elessar would see that it remained so.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said about the Elven realms. The three Rings had lost their power and with it, the bearers’ desire to remain in Middle-earth. That was why the two brothers had returned to the valley. Their father, Lord Elrond Peredhil, keeper of Vilya, and master of the Last Homely House had finally taken his long journey over the sea. As much as they desired to stay in the wilds, hunting orcs and traveling with the Rangers, Imladris needed a lord and master.

And that was what the valley did not understand. In nature, great change may only come in ten thousand years, but to suddenly lose their lord and a powerful Elven ring was more than some creatures wished to bear. The two elves would have to spend many more nights singing to the star-filled sky trying to quell the land’s distress over the sudden absence. However, the valley did not specifically mourn for their father. It simply wanted things the way it had been for the nearly five thousand years Imladris hid in its ridges, but that could never be. Given time, the mountains and hillsides would stop their lament, but the elves knew the land would never completely return to its glory. Part of it was lost forever.

The brothers would fight to preserve the memories that clung there, but in the end, they knew it would be a fruitless struggle. Only under their father’s care could the trees grow magnificent, beautiful, and strong. With the melting of the winter snows and the spring rains, the Bruinen River would swell to dangerous levels and carve new paths through pristine tree groves. Like everything else, the Elven realm of Imladris would slowly fade until it would altogether vanish into the ridges of the Misty Mountains. This knowledge plagued the twin sons of Elrond.

“But it will not fade tonight, nor vanish tomorrow. Not yet,” Elladan said softly to his twin who stood beside him on the balcony overlooking the trees and river. Both their minds had strayed to the same topic, and even though it had been nearly seven months since their father left, the brothers could still spend an entire night lost in thought, staring at the stars and moonlight reflecting off the landscape.

Elrohir did not take his eyes off the Bruinen flowing far below. “Perhaps not, but our valley is changing little by little before our eyes. Do you know what I found today? Do you remember the great tree half a mile north, the one we first taught Estel to climb?” He paused and looked to see if Elladan knew which one he spoke of.

“Near the good hunting area? Yes, I remember it.”

Elrohir’s reply was simple, “It is dying.”

Elladan frowned. That tree had been standing strong for many hundreds of years. During sudden rain showers, they had often taken shelter under its massive canopy, and for decades, it had been young Estel’s favorite place to climb. If the tree were hollow, three elves could easily fit inside, and the last time Elladan had seen it, the branches had been full and firm, a steadfast anchor. However, he knew something as simple as a single lightening strike or gust of wind could destroy even the mightiest; it was the way of nature. “Trees die, Elrohir.”

“But not like this. Not here,” he said, sorrow enveloping every word. “A disease has taken hold and is affecting the leaves in nearly two thirds of the branches. The very top is completely dead, and the rest of the leaves are in various stages of decay and illness. The ground is littered with them, and the sickness has spread to several surrounding trees.”

This was something completely new to the valley. While of course trees and wildlife died, they had never suffered from disease. It was a blessing the elves of Imladris had taken for granted and attributed to the power of Vilya. Sadly, now that was changing. How often would nature now force their hand? They had to protect the rest of the valley.

“Then we have no choice. Tomorrow morning we will clear away the infected trees and burn them.”

“We should take a few others with us. They are large, and clearing everything away may be a bit much for us to complete by nightfall.”

Elladan nodded once before retreating back into the great house. He could not look out into the night anymore. Having lifted his voice to the darkness hours ago, he no longer found solace in the stars or the trees, not with the direction his thoughts were traveling. Now he wanted the comfort of a warm fire and perhaps one of his father’s books, something to distract him.

Elrohir knew his brother’s mind and followed quietly. Although not every night, often one or the other would withdraw early from the glow of the stars and lock themselves away in a windowless room of their large house, either reading a book or studying one of their father’s writings. Tonight, both of them would spend a few hours in the library.

While the number of elves still living in the house was not as large as it was, a comfortable number remained and kept a sense of community. But Imladris was quiet at this time of night. Faint songs could be heard in the first few hours of the evening, but then no one stirred or left their rooms, perhaps out of respect for their new lords. The twins were grateful for this peace every night when they could almost escape from their burdens.

The two brothers silently descended the large staircase and entered the once grand library. At one time, books filled the room and ladders were supplied to reach those in the high shelves. Now, those shelves were hardly occupied above eye level. Elrond had taken many of the precious volumes with him, and a good deal more had been scattered across Middle-earth. Gondor had received the most. Nearly everything on Númenór had been sent to the city’s library, and because of King Elessar’s love of herb lore and medicine, he had received several books on healing for his personal collection. A large number of elves now lived in the new realm of Ithilien, and Prince Legolas had been given several volumes to supply his people’s needs. Samwise requested a few books as well, and the elves had been more than happy to send them. Visiting the Shire and seeing the hobbit’s child-like laughter and happiness reminded them of Bilbo’s frequent visits.

Lately, many things revived memories in the two brothers. Some were painful, some joyous, but all held a degree of sadness. As they walked through the halls of their home, every door held a reminder of things that would never be the same. At one time, every room had been occupied, but now most were left empty. There was simply too much room for those who remained.

But having the rooms closed did not stop the memories. Every day when they walked from their chambers to the dining hall, they passed Lord Glorfindel’s private study where the twins studied early First Age history. After all, Glorfindel had lived and died during that time, protecting their ancestors Tuor, Idril, and Eärendil from the destruction of Gondolin - making him the perfect tutor. But he had followed his lord six weeks ago and taken many of his belongings with him. Now, his chambers stood bare.

Even tonight going from the second floor to the downstairs library, the brothers passed Arwen’s morning room where she would spend hours writing her letters. Even though she spent many recent years with her grandparents in Lothlórien, she would always return home, but their sister would not be coming back now. She had made her choice to live among Men, the choice of Lúthien, to be with her beloved. They could visit her in the White City, but she would not return to the Elven realm. Their Undómiel was lost.

Along the back of the house, flowers still grew in their mother’s garden, but they could not be tended as well as they should. There were simply too many other matters requiring her sons’ attention. Even though she had sailed West over five hundred years ago, the pain of her passing still tormented the twins. They could not save her then, and they could not preserve what she left behind now. They knew she was neither dead nor gone forever, but what they held in their minds and hearts was not enough for their wanting souls. The twins wanted the bench where she sat and read to them; they wanted the clear stone path she used when walking through her flowers; they wanted to hear her laughter echo off the trees and drift into their rooms through open windows. They wanted everything that reminded them of her… including their father.

How could they even begin to describe the loss they felt from his absence? For nearly three thousand years he had been the powerful presence in their lives. Even when they traveled with the Rangers and had been away for decades at a time, they could always return to the loving embrace of their father. He related to them in so many ways, and the twins saw their own lives’ path often mirroring his. He had talked with them about how he handled the pain of his own twin’s death, the honor and pride he felt fighting beside Gil-galad and Elendil in the Last Alliance, the anger and disappointment over failing to ensure the One Ring’s destruction, and the joy of seeing the task finally completed. However, he also listened with a patience and understanding the twins had yet to find in another being, be it Elf or Man. No matter what kind of emotional turmoil raged in their souls, either from the pain of dealing with friends slain in battle or from their mother’s capture and decision to sail West, he had always been there to listen and offer his wisdom. But now he was gone.

Elves were not supposed to deal with this type of loss. It was Men who lost parents and friends to old age and sickness. It was their race that had to cope with never again seeing their loved ones and living with the daily reminders of their absence. They were the ones who found ways to survive the grief while Elves died from it or surrendered to the call of the sea to relieve their pain.

Unfortunately, Elladan and Elrohir knew they would never feel the awesome and terrible pull of the sea. It was simply not in their blood. They were the sons of Elrond Peredhil, Half-elven, and the dreaded Sea Longing had no home in their hearts. They could never surrender to its call.

They also knew that they would not fade because of their grief. Elves had been leaving Middle-earth in alarming numbers for hundreds of years. The time of the elves had ended, and everyone had seen its approach. Because the process stretched over such a period, the grief that weighed on the brothers’ hearts had arrived slowly and would not crush them.

As soon as they had been old enough to fully comprehend the choice granted to them, the twins had dreaded making their final decision. They loved Middle-earth with a deep passion and had not even begun to grow weary of its wonders. However, though they wished it, they could not wait another three thousand years to decide. With the exception of their grandfather Celeborn who would soon come to live with them in the valley, every elven lord of old had sailed, and their people were quick to follow. Of course, Círdan remained in the Grey Havens, but he too would sail. It would be the last ship to leave Middle-earth, and then Valinor would be closed forever. If they chose to live as the Firstborn, they must sail West with their people, and it would not be many more years before that future arrived.

Elladan and Elrohir felt this was the curse of their choice. Having known they’d still not made their decision, their father had one last thing to say on the subject before he left.

_“I know your hears are torn between two worlds much like mine was,” he told them. “Do not rush or let others sway your decision because it is yours alone to make. Otherwise, no matter which path you take, you will never find rest. Sail from the troubles this world holds or stay and enjoy the wonders of Middle-earth. Either way, be at peace with the scars you will carry.”_

The truth of his words still echoed in their ears. No matter which path they took, a part of their hearts would be lost.

Which should they choose? Sailing would mean giving up the land they loved and completely removing themselves from the world of Men. However, they would regain their friends and loved ones. Would the Valar and Elves be able to replace their hearts’ yearning for Middle-earth? If not, their immortal souls would long for what was left behind until the ending of the world. This road would leave them no escape from their pain.

If they chose to live among Men, they would be in a place they loved. They would work to destroy the last orcs from the land, the promise made to their mother after her capture. They could watch Arwen and Estel raise their family. Such large parts of their hearts were tied to this land.

While Elladan and Elrohir had not even begun to tire of Middle-earth, they would someday, and by then it would be too late to leave. To live as men meant completely leaving behind everything they had cherished in their three thousand years of existence. The pain they felt now over their emptying house would increase and be an ever present reminder. However, it would last for another half century perhaps, and then they would die. They would be granted Men’s Gift of death, and there would be nothing. No pain, no longing, and their decision would no longer matter. They would be completely free, and unfortunately, sailing to Valinor could not guarantee the same peace.

This was one occasion where there was no turning back. They had to be sure.

“My lords?” Erestor called softly, interrupting the twins’ thoughts as he stepped into the library. “A messenger from Gondor arrived late this evening. I intended to wait until morning to give it to you, however as I passed by, I noticed you had yet to retire.”

“Yes, we’ll be here for a while longer, I think,” Elrohir said. Being closest to the entryway, he quickly set aside his reading and accepted the sealed envelope. The twins had not received news from Gondor in months and were eager to hear how Estel and Arwen were fairing.

“Is this all? Was nothing else sent?” Elrohir asked as he stared at the envelope. Imprinted in the wax was the rod and simple banner of the Steward, not the tree and stars of the King.

“I’m afraid not. The young man did not even enter our main courtyards. He simply handed the letter to the guard at the gate instructing that it be delivered to you directly. He asked to water his horse and then promptly departed again, bound with messages for those in the Shire.”

“Very well, thank you Erestor.” Without even waiting until their advisor had left, Elrohir quickly sat back in his chair and brought the light closer. With Elladan standing anxiously over his shoulder, he slid his finger between the two pieces of paper, broke the seal, and pulled the papers from the envelope.

In the few seconds it took to unfold the papers, a thousand different thoughts flew through the twins’ minds. Never had a messenger from Gondor arrived without bringing them something from Arwen and Estel. They held probably fifteen pages in their hands now, and while the brothers had become good friends with the Steward during the years they spent there, Faramir still left most of Gondor’s kingdom news to Estel or Arwen. Why would Faramir send them such a detailed message unless something had happened? What could possibly keep their sister and her husband from writing? Injury? Illness? Attack? Capture? Assassination? So many things could go wrong for a ruling family, and the burden would fall to Faramir to send the bad news abroad.

_Wait. Just read what he has to say. Start with the first line,_ Elrohir scolded himself as his eyes locked on the first words of the letter.

_To my dear friends,  
I hope this letter finds you both well and in better spirits then when we last met. I’m certain you have found numerous projects to occupy your attention, as have I. _

Both elves smiled slightly. The twins remembered joking with Faramir about how there would be nothing to do in Imladris. In Gondor, their days had been busy rebuilding Minas Tirith’s infrastructure and defenses. It was dramatically different from their current activities. _But enough pleasantries, Faramir. Why do you write?_ Elrohir thought as his eyes quickly continued.

_There is truly only one reason for my letter to you, and I simply can not keep skirting around it. I am pleased beyond words to announce that my beloved Éowyn is with child, and we expect its arrival in early autumn!! Our secret was announced during Aragorn’s birthday celebration, much to my disapproval. We wanted to wait until after the banquets, but somehow Éomer guessed the truth, and the information quickly spread through the room. It was not long before Aragorn was at my side shaking my hand and asking questions…_

The letter continued on for another two pages before concluding with an invitation to Emyn Arnen the following September. Apparently Estel was planning an extravagant festival to welcome Faramir and Éowyn’s child, and they wanted all of their close friends present.

“I knew it wouldn’t take long,” Elladan said as he flipped through the remaining papers. Arwen and Estel had indeed sent their own letters attached to the end of Faramir’s. Apparently they hadn’t wanted to ruin the surprise by sending separate messages since they knew the twins would read theirs first. “Faramir told me they wanted a child before too many more years were behind them.”

“We should have more than enough time to get everything in order here. I don’t see why we couldn’t spend a few months in Gondor, either in Emyn Arnen or Minas Tirith,” Elrohir said with a sly smile. They were overjoyed for Faramir and Éowyn, and it would be a perfect opportunity to escape from Imladris. Simply thinking about seeing their friends and family again was enough to draw the two back from their previously dark thoughts.

“I agree with you entirely, brother! Grandfather should be here by then, and Erestor won’t sail until sometime after the winter solstice. There will be more than enough qualified elves here to manage the valley while we’re gone.”

“And collection of the winter stores will have started by then. You and I have helped organize it for nearly 2800 years, and others have done it far longer. I’m sure someone else would be up to the task this time.” He paused before turning to completely face his brother. “We will have to bring gifts for the child,” Elrohir mused, smiling.

“And for the proud parents,” Elladan offered as he returned to his seat.

“Any ideas on what they should be?”

Four hours later, Elladan and Elrohir finally agreed on the various gifts they would be bringing to Gondor. There were two in particular that would prove extremely difficult to find, four that would require several weeks of work in the smith shop, and one in which the twins would have to combine their creative skills to produce.

Such a welcomed distraction would focus their minds and keep them from dwelling on the future. There was still time to decide, several hundred years at least, and until then, Elladan and Elrohir knew they would be welcomed among either peoples. They could still be among friends and loved ones and enjoy the wonders of Middle-earth whether they were with Men or Elves.

In five months, Faramir and Éowyn were going to have a child, and Estel and Arwen would start a family soon as well. There would be an entirely new generation of Men who would bring their skills and creativity to the world, a new generation to be taught the old ways, the ancient tongues, and the stories of their forefathers’ sacrifices. There would be plenty of other things to occupy the troubled minds of the twin sons of Elrond.

The answers they desperately wanted would have to come in their own time. They had to do what was in their hearts, and no matter how much time was spent in contemplation, the mind can force the heart into nothing. It has its own will. The dark thoughts would always haunt them in the late hours of the night, but the two would work to ensure their days were filled with lightheartedness and optimism. It was the way of their people, the way they were raised. One morning, they would wake up and their hearts would announce its intentions. Until then all they could do was wait.

When the master of the Grey Havens stood on his last ship and made the final call for those wishing to depart, they would choose. Then the two brothers would announce their path, together, as they had always done and not a moment before.

 

***********************************************

  
**Author's note:** Originally, I wanted to just end it here, however my beta, Jay, suggested otherwise. So I've decided to write a short epilogue to finish everything off. I will hopefully have it done in the next few weeks. 


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Elrond gone and Imladris under their care, Elladan and Elrohir struggle with the terrible burden of making their final choice. Should they sail West or remain in Middle-earth?

Thank you to Othrilis for reading this part through!  


\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Part Two**

 

_“Mae govannen, mellyn nin,”_ Círdan said as he stepped onto the dock. “It has been too many years.”

“That it has, my friend,” Elladan said as he embraced the older elf. In all actuality, it had been centuries since he and his brother had traveled this far west. “I wish we could have met again under different circumstances.”

With a sad sigh, Círdan turned his eyes to the large grey ship anchored in the harbor. “I’m sorry it has to be this way, but with only one ship left, I could not in good conscious keep the others waiting any longer. I tried to tell them that you…”

“No, please,” Elrohir interrupted. “We know how much others have sacrificed for us. When father left, there had only been the faintest hope that we’d have so many years to wait. You’ve done more then you possibly know.”

Círdan smiled and stood quietly for a moment as he studied the twins. They had changed since he’d last seen them. Their hair, which had once been long, was now cut so it hung just under their chins, and they no longer wore the braids that marked their status as lords and warriors. Their pants and shirts were loose fitting with patches of bright vibrant colors, not at all like the grey and earth-tone attire they had worn in years past. He knew styles among men changed often and could only assume the brothers had followed the culture they’d lived in. However, now that they walked among Elves once more, the twins stood out sharply.

But it was not just their hair and clothing that caught Círdan’s attention. Their eyes held both a depth and sorrow which he’d rarely seen in ones so young, and soft lines traced their features. In truth, they appeared to have aged in the handful of centuries since he’d seen them last, but whether in mortal years or just in wisdom, he did not know. What had caused them to suffer? Was it simply the weight of their choice, or did something darker haunt their steps?

The brothers waited patiently for him to finish his search and did not shy away from his powerful gaze. “Have we changed that much, my friend?” Elladan asked quietly after Círdan finally looked away.

The older elf nodded slowly before meeting their eyes once more. “Great sorrow echoes in your eyes, and you are old beyond your years. I do not know what you have witnessed, but something in you has changed from the young lords I once knew. Could it be that you have chosen to live as men and have simply come to see us depart?”

Sadly, Elladan had seen those same changes in the mirror-like face of this twin, and Elrohir had surely observed it as well. Until Círdan had spoken, he’d prayed the differences were small enough to remain unnoticed by friends. Perhaps they were in worse shape then he thought. “No, we have not made that choice yet, but the years have been difficult none the less. I fear what you see is the consequences of our failure to choose. My brother and I have hovered between two worlds these last centuries, and I think our bodies have grown tired of the indecision, floating between Man and Elf. Perhaps we should not have delayed so long, but the heart and mind do not always speak of the same desire.”

Elladan paused for a long moment before he spoke again. When he did, Círdan was not surprised to witness a flash of intense emotion coming from Elladan’s eyes and voice. Anger, sorrow, and most prevalent, regret all radiated from the young lord for the briefest of moments while he spoke. “We have seen both beautiful and terrible things. Some of those tales we will gladly tell.”

“However, many we will never speak of,” Elrohir added softly, his own emotion echoing his brother’s.

Elladan confirmed his twin’s words with a single nod but said no more. Some things they’d witnessed were simply too painful and having to relive them would reopen old wounds and damage their hearts even further. They would keep those things tightly protected in their memories until the end of their days. “When have you scheduled the departure?” Elladan asked quietly.

Círdan easily caught their desire to change the subject, and he did not press them. Perhaps there would still be time for tales and explanations. “Nearly all our supplies have been brought aboard. Most wish to sail when the tide turns in two hours, otherwise the next opportunity will be midday tomorrow. However, if you require more time, we can always delay.”

“I do not think that will be necessary, but thank you,” Elladan said. “I believe my brother and I will walk through the woods for a while. We will return within two hours with our final decision.”

“At which time I will be waiting for you on these docks.” Círdan smiled, bowed low and turned back to his ship.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The red sun was low in the sky before the brothers finally immerged from the trees. They had taken nearly the entire two hours given to them, but in the end, a decision was finally reached. They wanted to go home. They wanted to be back among the people of their youth where the days were timeless and the faces familiar.

Over the years, every remaining orc or servant of Sauron had been destroyed or driven far to the south, and then, their lives’ purposes were forced to change. Elessar had declared this to be the Age of Peace, and even now, over four hundred years after his death, his descendents continued to preserve that proclamation. The twins had no one left to fight, no evil malice encroaching on what was good and pure, no unquestionable objective. Now there were highwaymen, mercenaries, and ruffians. Those were not the enemy of warriors, rather of constables, sheriffs, and lawmakers. After Imladris had been closed forever, it had been this reality that had driven the twins out of the wilds and back into the cities of men before finally settling in the fourth level of the White City.

The centuries spent in Minas Tirith had gifted them with both joyous and sorrowful occasions, and time raced as it never could among elves. People, their friends, had been alive for a heartbeat and then disappeared beyond the memories of the world. Outside of a warrior’s lifestyle where the desire to form fast, deep bounds was universal, the twins found it difficult to cultivate friendships like those they had enjoyed in the past. It had taken them too many lonely years to understand that every day was important, and friendships became neglected quicker then the brothers thought possible. But they had learned, and even thought they had fought through difficult times, Elladan and Elrohir would not trade their experiences for anything.

All those years ago, an aging Eldarion had asked if they would consider opening an academy within Minas Tirith, a place where the common citizen could learn ancient lore and the vanishing ways of the elves. The brothers had poured their hearts into every aspect of that school. It had given them a purpose and a perfect way to interact with their community. They could remember the faces of every student, and they had honored them by attending every one of their funerals. It had been difficult to know that every scholar they trained would die before them. Loosing a friend to old age or illness had never been something they’d dealt with in a peace-time lifestyle. Death from battle wounds was the only thing they really had experience with. Rangers didn’t generally live long enough to die of natural causes. It took the twins many years to understand the true implications of living among mortals, but their school worked as an important tool where not just the students were given an education but the instructors as well.

When the brothers had left the city a few weeks ago, preparations had been made for a new headmaster, just in case the brothers decided not to return. Unfortunately, over the years, interest in the school had diminished, and now, the number of applicants had dwindled to a little more than a dozen. Had the twins decided to return to the city as men, they would have been forced to consider a new profession in order to support themselves through their last years. Unfortunately, now the fate of their beloved academy was out of their hands, but they had faith it would survive as long as it was needed. After all, that was what they wanted, to offer Men what they could for as long as they desired.

There had been so many factors to consider when making their choice, their school being an important one. However, during their walked through the forest, the twins opened their hearts to the land and listened. As the wind blew through the leaves and the birds sang, the brothers remembered their family who had come before them. Their household was so rich in history. It was filled with many stories of great sacrifice and endless hardship, but there were also triumphant victories and enduring love. Their thoughts strayed to those who had chosen to live among men; Lúthien, Elros, Arwen… Those three had done incredible things with their unselfish decision.

Lúthien and Beren’s love was legendary and conquered even death. Their uncle Elros had become the first king of Númenór and created a mighty civilization. Their sister’s love for Aragorn mirrored Lúthien’s passion, and Arwen supported her love in uniting the kingdoms of Arnor and Gondor.

If Elladan and Elrohir had chosen the fate of men, they would certainly keep impressive company. Would their reasons have been as honorable as their ancestors’? There was no empire for them to build, no mortal to call their true beloved. The best they could hope for would be to rebuild a new household and raise families with loving wives. What would have been their reason for living as men? What could they do in Middle-earth that could not be done over the sea? It would be for the promise of death and their complete removal from the world. They had to admit to themselves that death would be their underlying reason, and it was a selfish one. It would be to surrender and a dishonorable defeat.

Aside from that truth, in the end, Elladan and Elrohir simply did not feel like their lives’ calling had ended or would end in Minas Tirith. Years before, they could have convinced themselves of it, but now things were changing again, and their desires were pulling them elsewhere. They had formed a new passion. While their father had chosen healing after his warrior lifestyle, the twins wanted to teach. They sought to join together the two worlds they dearly loved, and that could no longer be done in Minas Tirith. The whims and fancies of men changed as quickly as the seasons, but the elvish community’s desire to learn and study would never falter. The brothers would bring everything they had learned across the sea, and see to it that the people who remained in Middle-earth would always be actively remembered in the minds and hearts of the Firstborn.

Through the years, the pain over their household’s departure, which had threatened to crush them after their father left, had been an ever present companion and had been amplified when the last room of Imladris was sealed. Now it was finally time to go home to them. Friends they had not seen since childhood were waiting for them. Their father would be standing on the beach waiting to hear the last news from Middle-earth. They longed to see their mother, healed in both body and spirit. The eradication of her tormentors had been a major factor in their delay, but now the orcs were gone and their oath fulfilled.

However, they would not look forward too was telling their parents of Arwen’s fate. The twins had failed her, and while news of their sister’s death had surely already reached the Undying Land, the tale of their involvement had not. Perhaps a better term was lack of involvement. This was a memory Elladan and Elrohir feared to remember. Failure to support Arwen in her time of need was an enormous regret they carried with them.

Even though Aragorn had chosen the time of his death, it still came rather suddenly and without preparation. That year, Elladan and Elrohir had decided to travel westward, simply enjoying the land. Unfortunately, they were deep in the snowy wilds of the northwest with no way of being contacted, and even members of their household did not know exactly where they’d gone. After many months of searching, Gondor’s desperate messenger finally tracked them down north of the Shire, but days later, Aragorn left the world and vanished forever.

For nearly nine months, he had lingered, waiting for them. However, his mind had deteriorated faster then expected, and Aragorn feared loosing his capacity to choose. He left a detailed letter for his brothers explaining everything he could and apologizing again and again for not being able to delay. The very last line pleaded with them, begging for forgiveness…

Unfortunately, Aragorn’s fate was far from their mind when the brothers reached Minas Tirith. They’d been so far west that they arrived in the city over three weeks too late, and their sister had already vanished. No one knew where she had gone, not Eldarion, her daughters, or any of the citadel’s staff. Elladan and Elrohir could only imagine the anguish she felt, and fearing for her life, they frantically began their search. They did not want her to be alone.

They thought perhaps she would return to Imladris to be somewhere familiar, but after a rapid chase home, they could find no trace of her. So, they then gathered what elves they could from their household and scattered them east and south throughout the wilds. The brothers were not surprised to see how many were willing to drop everything and search for their grieving Evenstar. However, the two were still not convinced she would not come to her childhood home, and the brothers methodically tracked the roads south east, desperately searching for any sign that Arwen had been near. It wasn’t until they had reached the long emptied Lórien that they finally found a trail. Unfortunately, too much time had passed, over six months, and while the signs were not that old, there was no hope of finding her still alive. Although they could never be certain, Elladan and Elrohir found a green mound where her tracks ended, and they set a vigil. Through the winter, they remained and mourned.

For nearly twenty five years, the brothers grieved, feeling hurt and betrayed. They had not returned to Minas Tirith and had rejected every attempt Eldarion made to contact them. It was during those years that Elladan and Elrohir nearly abandoned Middle-earth, toying with the idea that even the Halls of Mandos would be a better destination to relieve their suffering. They did not want to return to the cities of men and face those memories, and they did not want to cross the sea and bring this news to their parents. So instead, they wandered. Imladris continued to empty, and the enduring house of Telcontar continued to live and age.

After a fourth of a century had passed, the brothers finally returned to their valley where they were greeted by a handful of remaining elves. The years had not been kind and those who lingered could not preserve its beauty. The twins were forced to decide the fate of their home, and within five years, the last door of Imladris closed forever.

Soon after, Elladan and Elrohir returned to Minas Tirith and begged Eldarion to forgive their actions. The aging king saw a new grief in their eyes, and privately, he mourned for their suffering. He told them that all hurts were already forgotten and that through the years, he’d missed their council. Knowing that their elven homeland had been sealed, he helped them find a new residence within the city walls and asked if they would consider opening an academy. From that point forward, their lives took a new path, and it would continue across the sea. As their two hour limit approached, that was their final contemplation.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Just as he promised, they saw Círdan standing at the end of the dock next to a small ferry. The setting sun reflected red light off the water, casting a warm and welcoming glow on the older elf. As the brothers approached, they saw he had a gentle smile on his face as though he already knew the path they had chosen.

Without any words being exchanged, Elladan and Elrohir followed Círdan as he turned and climbed into the small transport vessel which waited to carry them out to the anchored ship. A promising, steady wind blew off the mountains in the north, and it carried the sent of the wilds. Together the twins turned their faces into it and took a deep breath. This was going to be their last memory of Middle-earth, the sun at their backs and the fresh breeze sweeping over their faces and through their hair.

The wind seemed to swirl around them and carried with it a soft voice which whispered only in the brothers’ ears. The voice was neither male nor female, neither one nor many; it simply was. Their ears could not clearly hear what was being spoken, but their hearts heard and understood. The land was calling to them, saying that everything would be alright and giving them permission to depart.

Had this been what they had waited for? Perhaps, but either way, it was welcomed, and they felt better then they had in decades. They knew that Valinor would not be completely free of sorrow, but it would not be like anything they had known. All their years of struggle and trial were essentially over. For good or ill, men would rule over the land they’d loved, and from that day on, elves held no place in it. Elladan and Elrohir found that their hearts now completely and unconditionally accepted this knowledge and would never again grieve over it. They would miss the land they loved, but it would be as one remembers a happy childhood, full of laughter and joy, trials and forfeit, a time and place that can ultimately never be returned to. Their time here was done, and they would leave it in good hands.

With their complete attention directed to the shoreline, the brothers did not notice when they pulled alongside the tall ship and their belongings hauled aboard. Círdan gently called to them, pulling them out of their reverie. “Sons of Elrond, dwell in the past no longer, but instead come and look to the West where you will find the peace you seek.” He held out his hand to them as they climbed aboard. “Stand among your people once more, and know that you leave behind only what you wish to forget.”

“Indeed,” Elladan said, and as soon as the ferry withdrew, white sails were unfurled, and the sea air filled them, propelling the great ship west. Gulls and other sea birds followed closely as if bidding farewell to the last of a soon to be forgotten Age. That was the last time the brothers looked east toward the trees of Middle-earth.

The wind was strong, and soon even the great mountains to the north were disappearing from elven sight. However, on board, no eyes were focused toward them. A calming peace had descended over the ship, and each passenger was lost in their own thoughts.

Elladan and Elrohir were standing side-by-side in the forward section when Círdan found them. “What do you think on, my friends?” he asked as they looked over the water.

For a moment neither elf spoke, and Círdan feared they had been too lost in thought to hear him. However, Elrohir’s voice quietly rose above the sound of the sea. “Those that have taken this journey before us,” he said without looking up, “and those who will greet us when we arrive.”

“I can tell you with certainty that you are not alone in those thoughts.” For a moment Círdan’s eyes drifted down to the waterline, and he watched the waves beat rhythmically against the hull. “Who will you greet first?”

Elladan answered immediately with a somber face. “Our mother. We will tell her that we are home and that she has been avenged.”

\------------------------------------------------------  
When every town looks just the same  
When every choice gets hard to make  
When every map is put away  
Then I'll be bringing you back  
Home to stay  
…  
When every boat  
Has sailed away  
And every path  
Is marked and paved

When every road  
Has had its say  
Then I'll be bringing you back  
Home to stay

Josh Groban- _Home To Stay_  
\------------------------------------------------------

 

The End.


End file.
